Medias Res
by Ember Nickel
Summary: Faile has some questions for Loial. Questions about the Horn of Valere.


"So tell me, friend Ogier," said Mandarb-_Faile_, then, if that blushing farmboy said so-"how is it that the discovery of the Horn of Valere did not warrant mention in your introduction?"

"Um, uh," said Loial. "It is not-we do not wish to attract attention, you see, any more than is necessary."

"Any more than is necessary for an Aes Sedai, her Warder, an Ogier, and the blacksmith."

"Ogier are not an uncommon sight in human cities!" Loial protested, as if he was the most noteworthy part of their party. "Very frequently our people leave the _stedding_. Very frequently. Why, just in the last century, Tarla daughter of Obuon daughter of Rulo walked all the way to Mayene, and Jaren son of Hilran son of Foch visited _al'cair'rahienallen_, and that is just from Stedding Shangtai alone."

"The Horn," Faile said.

"Yes. Well, that was not the objective of our venture, at the beginning."

"Not the _objective_?" Hundreds had filled the square in the center of Illian, old and young, riders and striders, bowmen and spearmen. And yes, even a gleeman or two-even for those who did not find the Horn, the names of the Hunters would live in song and story alongside Rogosh Eagle-eye and Birgitte Silverbow. And these wanderers had happened across it by accident? Not for the first time, Faile wondered what sort of company she had been drawn into.

Well, if they were all as tongue-tied as the farmboy, it would be a long tale in the telling.

"Mistress, ah, Mistress Moiraine was resolved to journey into the Blight, to seek the Eye of the World."

"I have heard these tales, too," Faile said cautiously. Saldaea was no Shienar and certainly no Malkier, but neither could it dawdle in the warm foolishness of Tear or Illian or places that knew not the touch of the Dark One's prison. "She believed her need was dear?"

"Yes," said Loial. "Hers and the others'-Lan, and Perrin, and his-friends, who had traveled with him from the Two Rivers. I believe they are all _ta'veren_."

"Two more like Perrin would be a great deal to handle, even for an Aes Sedai."

"Perrin is not so bad, you know. He ponders and gives thought before he speaks. It is an admirable trait in a human."

Faile had no intention of letting him know she agreed. "And how did you, Loial, run across these farmboys in the-Two Rivers, you say?"

"Oh, I did not go there," Loial said. "That is a long journey on foot, although I _could_, of course, if I had the desire. The Longing would not start so soon. Hmm, but I was visiting Caemlyn when I came across Rand and Matrim, and their friends joined them. A lovely city, Caemlyn, by human standards."

"I see," said Faile.

"So then, Moiraine Sedai led us into the Blight, and I-I came to take notes. For my book. It is the sort of thing that should be in a book, don't you think?"

"The accidental hunt for the Horn? Yes, I suppose it ought, though you may need a wittier title."

"Well, we were travelling through the Blight, and we came across a Nym."

"A what?"

That same reproving look. "A survivor of the Nym, who were brothers and sisters to trees even before we Ogier came to this world. The aged one who humans in the Borderlanders call the Green Man."

That was not a story that Faile knew, but perhaps stories were different in Shienar. Or perhaps it had a different name, some Old Tongue derivation. "And this man had the Horn of Valere?"

"Well, he was set to guard the Eye of the World."

"Ah."

"That is..." Loial wrung his hands. "It is a sort of weapon that only barely survived the Breaking of the World. And it-it is no longer. It was destroyed fighting against the Shadow."

"But you all survived. Clearly."

"Well, yes," said Loial. "And there, at the Eye, was the Horn."

"The Eye that got destroyed?"

"Uh...nearby."

"Belonging to this Nym?"

"Well, he was also killed fighting...fighting Darkfriends, so it's not like we stole it from him."

"You must have been very fortunate to survive."

"_Ta'veren_," repeated the Ogier, as if that explained anything. "Yes, the Horn, and an ancient banner from the Age of Legends."

"How did you know it was from the Age of Legends?"

"Moiraine Sedai recognized it. It is a very old pattern."

"I am told Ogier have long memories, much longer than humans."

"Maybe the Elders, but not me," said Loial stiffly. "I am merely ninety years old."

Merely! "So where did you place it?"

"Place what?" babbled Loial.

"The _Horn of Valere_," Faile hissed. "No, don't tell me, I'm sworn to keep your secrets and follow you. Don't tempt me to change course."

"Ah," said Loial. "Well, you see, we did not place it so much as it was, er, stolen."

"Stolen?" This band had the fortune to survive the quest for the Horn, only to have it ripped from their grasp? The Pattern was surely weaving _something_ around them, but as far as Faile could tell it might as well strangle the lot. Perhaps not the blacksmith.

"Darkfriends in Fal Dara. A terrible thing. Terrible! To repay one's hosts in such a way."

"So it is still lost? The horn," Faile added, before Loial could play the fool.

"No, no. We pursued them, ah-men of Shienar, Lord Agelmar's men. His scout Hurin is a...a fine woodsman, a tracker, who followed the Darkfriends even when they tried to leave no trace. I hear that Perrin is such a tracker, too, but you would have to ask him."

A keen tracker, and humble about his own gifts? Well, there was no doubt a need to chase misbehaving sheep and cows through the woods. "I will do so."

"And so we followed the Darkfriends all the way to Falme, and Rand and Mat and the others infiltrated the home of a Seanchan nobleman, and stole it back."

"Falme?" Faile echoed. "On Toman Head? How long exactly have you been on this hunt?"

"It was not very long for me," said Loial. "For humans, I suppose, it might have been a long journey."

"You crossed the continent on foot? Perhaps I should let that horse have the name Mandarb, he has earned distinction."

"Ah, Lady Moiraine and Lan were not with us. But we had another Aes Sedai, who helped us-expedite the travel. Please do not make me speak of it, it was very unpleasant."

"I will not," said Faile. Just because a woman swore the oaths did not make her methods kind ones. "And the-shaun-chin?"

"Seanchan," Loial drawled. "Invaders from across the ocean. They call themselves the descendants of some human king, but I don't see what difference that makes."

"Most nations claim descent from some king or another. Even if it's indirect."

"Artur, his name was. Artur Paendrag Tanreall."

"The lost armies of Artur Hawkwing?"

"They're not very lost, I suppose. Although they scattered, after Falme."

"You said that your friend Matrim sounded the Horn?"

"So they say. I did not get to accompany him into the city." He was almost sulking, and for once, Faile could sympathize. "But _something_ pushed them back."

"And then?"

"And then Verin Sedai departed to bring the Horn to Tar Valon," said Loial. "And that is the last I have seen of it, the Light send it so."

Faile exhaled. "Friend Ogier, I suspect you will have a very long book."


End file.
